I just love it when some adoptive mom gets all riled up and decides to comment on a three-year old post. I guess they have to let the meanie moms like me know how wrong and bitter I am. Boo freaking hooooo. I don’t need anymore lectures on how saintly adoptive parents are as they rush around the world rescuing all the little children. Do you really not get how that sounds?

Is it really that hard to look at the date at the top of the post? Maybe even look around the blog to see if it’s still active? Oh well, thanks for reminding me to turn off my email notifications. You are at least useful for that

I have become stuck. I hide behind my mask. I have become so accustomed to hiding that I am stuck in that role. I can’t write. I can’t talk. I can’t reach out. I try to from time to time but I freeze and go right back to the role I have invented for myself.

There is so much inside of me. So much that fights to get out. So many words I can’t quite formulate. My story. The story of my daughter. How I became this thing adoption made me. The truth. I try but it sticks in my throat.

So dear readers I leave you with a song for now.

I have burned my tomorrow
And I stand inside today
At the edge of the future
And my dreams all fade away

I have burned my tomorrow
And I stand inside today
At the edge of the future
And my dreams all fade away

And burn my shadow away
And burn my shadow away

Fate’s my destroyer
I was ambushed by the light
And you judged me once for falling
This wounded heart arrives

And burn my shadow away
And burn my shadow away

When I see the light
True love forever
When I see the light
True love forever
When I see the light
True love forever
When I see the light
True love forever
Burn my shadow
When I see the light
True love forever
When I see the light
True love forever
Oh burn my shadow
When I see the light
True love forever
Away

I told you guys a little while back I was working on something. I still am working on it but figured it was about time I let you all in on it. Its not just my project. There are some wonderful people helping and sharing ideas. I have been truly inspired by working with them. So here goes….

We have stated a new group to support all people separated by adoption.

We are dedicated to support those struggling with adoption loss. We provide confidential support and information through a moderated support forum and a monitored nightly chat room.

We aim to prevent further unnecessary separations by uniting adoptees and firstparents in the mission to prevent dire situations, life circumstances, and oppressive belief systems that result in adoptions.

We aim to support families searching for family members, beginning a reunion, struggling with the complex emotional issues of a reunion or dealing with a failed reunion.

We aim to raise awareness of the life long consequences of adoption separation for mothers, fathers, adoptees, siblings and extended family.

We are an affiliate of Origins International.

I would love to see some of you on our forum! We even have a section for Allies that aren’t connected to adoption. Check us out but keep in mind we are still building.

I picked up an odd habit after my daughter was taken from me and adopted out to strangers. At first I didn’t notice it. I didn’t notice much in those dark days. You could have run through my house on fire and I would have been hard pressed to notice. Over time this habit became more and more clear. To this day I can not sleep without doing it. It seems like a kinda funny, quirky thing but I assure you it is very frustrating.

What could it be you wonder. I sleep on my hands. I have to lay flat on my back with my hands firmly tucked under my body or I simply can not sleep. Looking back I can see how this developed. It seems almost logical to me.

When I first got home after the birth of my beautiful little girl. My only surviving daughter att the time, I could not tolerate the feel of my own stomach. It was way more than not liking it. I went out of my way to avoid even accidentally brushing it with my hand. When I slept I would often wake up with a hand carelessly thrown across my stomach. The very feel would make me vomit and then break down in hysterics. I would cry these deep body sobs for hours. My own stomach had become taboo to me. It was gross and disgusting. It made my skin crawl in the same way a spider would. I would feel it for a long time after the inital touch. I could not get it out of my mind. So I started laying on my hands.

Wow it sounds pretty sad now that I write him out. Does anyone else have any odd habits that are a direct result of adoption? Maybe I am the only one.

Its the beginning of a new year and with that comes resolutions. I have many resolutions. Some are the typical kind to do things like lose weight, be more active and be nicer to my brother. I know most of that won’t happen. (sorry bro) I have a few resolutions of the adoption nature.

My big one is to write at least one entry on this blog a week. It sounds so easy but I know it will be very very hard for me to keep. Anyone in the adoption community knows how cruel it can be. Heartless comments and personal attacks are an every day occurence. I think we all know that natural mothers take more than their fair share of that. Its easy to hurt them. Its not very hard to know what to say to twist the knife in their heart. Before my break the comments had been getting to me more than I could deal with. This led me to my second resolution

Boundaries, they aren’t just for adoptees and APs anymore. I am setting some pretty major boundaries for this blog. I was trying not to hurt so many people that I was hurting myself. I will not do that anymore. On this blog mothers that have lost children to adoption are mothers or at the natural mothers. They are not birth anything and even first will not be permitted in some cases. If you comment with the b words I will simply edit it to say natural. I hate to do that but its my blog and I am sick of the disrespect.

On the subject of language, I will refer to people that adopt on a case to case basis. I have met some people that have adopted that truly understand what is happening in the adoption industry and I refer to them as adoptive parents. Why? Because they show me respect and I return the favor. The whole two way street thing. However, if you are an asshat that happens to have adopted you will be refered to as an adopter or worse. I will not hold punches anymore for people that swing with everything they have.

So there ya have it folks. This new year you do not get a kinder gentler Aislin. I tried that and it sucked. You get a more direct, stronger and honest Aislin. If you don’t like it I am truly sorry but no one is forcing you to read.

I had several posts swirling around in my little brain today but this is so much more important.

Cindy is remembered and will be as long as I live. I never knew her. I never spoke with her. Yet she probably would understand me more than my own family. We are forever connected. We are connected by a deep soul crippling pain.

I am so sorry Cindy!! I understand. Even though we never met, I love you as a sister. I am sending your family all the positive energy I have. Every year a candle burns brightly in a small window in NC for you.

Ummmm sorry but no. Adoption is not the new pregnant. For there to be an adoption someone gas to be pregnant you insensitive shit! Babies don’t just magically appear in social workers arms. There aren’t little girls dreaming if growing up to have their kids aopted by assholes wearing these shirts. There is a very real woman involved. A woman that has carried a child and kept that child safe. A woman who risked her life bring that child into this world. A woman who’s heart is going to break if she loses her child to adoption. A woman who’s life will be forever changed and will feel the pain of seperation until she dies. But who gives a fuck about her right? Adoption is the new pregnant!

And while I am offending people I have to say …… YOU ARE NOT PAPER PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am sorry if you can not have a child. I truly am but pretending will not change it. Adoption and pregnancy are not the same. Not amount of dumbass phrases will make them the same. Adoption and birth are very different. People need to stop pretending they aren’t. Signing a paper to adopt makes you no more pregnant than my big toe. I’m sorry but that is reality. No woman has ever died from complications during paper signing. Downplaying the vital and dangerous realities of pregnancy are demeaning to all mothers. Adoptive mothers might be researching and learning things but it is very very different. Why not just embrace those differences instead of pretending its the same?

So let the hate mail begin. I am sick of of the dellusional crap. Face reality people.

UPDATE

Dimples and Dandelions has taken the shirt off of their website. Yippie and thank you to all who wrote them about their offensive product!!!

Sooooooooooo write to them everyone. We can do this. Things like this do not belong in a civilized compassionate society. Let’s pretend we have a society like that and get rid of this dumbass shirt. Then we can do one more and one more until they are all gone

I’m still alive and kicking. I decided it was best to take a break from most things I find stressful. The pregnancy brought up so many feelings and issues I hadn’t even considered. Add onto that all the physical problems I had and it is a melt down waiting to happen. So I melted down and then just decided to chill until Bean decided to be born. I stayed offline for the most part. I have to admit my mood dramatically improved.

Now for the update…. Bean is here safe and sound. It was probably the easiest and fastest birth ever. I guess it made up for the hard and long pregnancy. She was born about a week late,( not a fun week) But she is here and she is perfect. She also is hungry so I will write more later

When someone snaps people often wonder why they never saw the signs. We wonder what could have been so terribly wrong without any of us knowing. How can someone seem so normal on second and then so insane the next? I have wondered these very things about people in my life. How could I know them but not know something was terribly wrong? Now I am sure many people in my life are wondering the same thing about me.

You see, I have figured out the whole snapping process. I watched myself do it this weekend. It was a strange thing. I could see it happening but was powerless to stop it. I could only watch as I spun more and more out of control. Gotta love dissociation. Thanks PTSD!!!!

It starts with the big thing. The thing that is terribly wrong. The one I hide from everyone behind my fake ass zombie smile and oh so strong words. The thing everyone ignores because its just easier that way. The fact that losing my daughter killed my soul. That is the big mountain side of snow in my case. The big thing always lurking under the surface of every moment of my life.

Then come all the little snowflakes. My health is one of those. To some it seems like a big thing but what is it compared to losing little A? So on to my health… I am so sick all the time. I have a hard time even getting out of bed most days. I am sick to my stomach all the time and everything hurts. I force myself to do the things the boys need but after that I am too worn down to do much more. There are a million things i have to do before the Bean gets here and I just can’t do it. I spent 2 hours curled up crying today because i can not figure out how to finish fixing my floor before my due date.

Another thing I can’t do while i am so sick is make any damn money. That means I do not have everything I need for Bean and things are hard on the boys right now. And the things I need to get and do just keep adding up. I found out this afternoon that when my charming father put up my crib for me he lost all of the hardware. That means I don’t even have anywhere for Bean to sleep! This alone brings back all those voices telling me why I am not good enough for my daughter. I can hear those whispers all the time now.

Then there is my middle boy. My sweet Monkey Man. He is high functioning autistic which brings challenges. He can not handle seeing me upset. But that isn’t really the problem. His birthday is coming up. I have no clue how I can afford to do much for him on that day and its not fair to him. He also has the bad fortune for his birthday to be 3 days after little A’s. So I am bound to already be an emotional wreck. Add one more little snowflake of him having a chorus concert on Little A’s birthday. I can not tell you how much I dread the thought of being stuck in a room with all those happy families with their perfect children and perfect lives on her birthday. I will do it for him but it will hurt like hell.

And the snow storm itself…. in 9 days my baby will be 2 yrs old. I have never heard her laugh. I have never seen her smile. (pictures do not count) I don’t know what her voice sounds like. Not a clue what she likes to eat. I have never smelled her hair fresh from the bath. Never seen the sparkle in her eye when she is being naughty. Never felt the weight of her head on my chest as she sleeps. I don’t know anything. I have missed it all and I wish I were dead.

So when the stupid dog acted up tonight it was one snowflake too many. The mountain side came crashing down. I snapped. I’m sorry for everyone that depends on me but i just can’t anymore. Its all way too much. I am tired and I can’t fight anymore. I fought damn hard for 2 yrs but its way too big for me. I don’t have anymore supportive advice or insight or whatever. All I have is a broken soul and pain. I can’t fight the good fight. I can’t help everyone else. I am going to bed and not getting up until December. Maybe by then I can muster enough strength to pretend I am alive again.